This to That
by ifonly13
Summary: "Moving on is never easy." :: To the girl who equals champagne, Carrs, and airplanes in my mind as she closes the book on high school and packs up her blazers to take college by storm.


_**This to That**_

* * *

_may the tide  
that is entering even now  
the lip of our understanding  
carry you out  
beyond the face of fear  
may you kiss  
the wind then turn from it  
certain that it will  
love your back may you  
open your eyes to water  
water waving forever_

* * *

She's stretched out on the couch in holey leggings that hit at her knees and one of his too-soft flannel shirts, a book propped up on her thighs. One of the windows is opened, letting in the cool breeze along with the sounds and smells of New York. She's been waiting for him to get back, patiently because she knows what this will do to him.

Moving on is never easy.

The door opens, clicks shut quietly. No further sound. Not of a jacket being taken off or shoes thumping against the wall or even a sigh. So she closes the book – one of his, not because she's sucking up but because Patterson's new one isn't out yet – on her forefinger to keep her place and turns so her arms rest on the back of the couch, confirming that it is him, not some masked robber.

He has his back pressed against the door, eyes shut tightly with his head tipped up. An attempt to keep brewing tears at bay; she recognizes the expression. His teeth are clenched and even in the autumn light, the lines on his face look so much deeper. One hand, the one not fisted against his thigh, rubs across his face, trying to soothe away those marks.

"Castle?" she says softly, not wanting to startle him.

He grunts in response. Eyes still closed, hands against the door, knees locked to keep him upright.

Kate finds a piece of junk mail on the coffee table and slips it into the book. She puts the worn copy of _Storm Rising_ down on the couch, swinging off to meet him in the front hall.

"Castle, are you okay?" she asks, reaching for his fist, covering it with her fingers.

His eyes open and she feels the grief shoot straight to her core. The usually clear blue is clouded, storming with emotion. "I just left her there, Kate. Abandoned her." His voice cracks and so does she, feeling her heart split for him.

"You did not abandon her," she says, voice firm. "She's going to college. A good college in the same city as you."

He lets his head hit the door again, trying to thump the veracity of her words into his brain. "Feels like abandoning her."

"But you're not. She's going to be fine." She smiles, tugging him toward the kitchen. "Come on. I'll distract you."

Kate manages a step away before Castle pulls her back against him, burying his head into her hair as she hits his chest with a huff of breath. His arms are tight around her waist, holding her in place. She's happy to let him use her as an anchor. So they stay there, in the front hallway, in the silence of the apartment. His fingers are curling into the fabric of her shirt, unfurling and then closing again, each time a little harder.

"Okay," he sighs, letting her go but keeping hold of her fingertips. "Distract me."

She thinks quickly. She could distract him around here with impromptu seduction, leading him to the bedroom with only a trail of clothing to give any hint of where they were headed, of what they were doing. But once it was over, the two of them sprawled across the bed and catching their breath, once they went to find lunch in the quiet apartment, he'd be struck by it all over again.

Alexis is gone. Moved out. Grown up.

Trips to the Old Haunt or Remy's will hold memories of nights out with his daughter. A walk through the park will bring back his role as a single father with one little girl pinning every hope on his existence. Still not a good diversion and she wants to do this right.

So she gives him a gentle shove toward his office. "Let me make a phone call." He falters as she looks for her phone on the countertop, turning back for her. "Go, Castle. Give me three minutes."

"I'm counting," he murmurs as he walks into the study, hands running through his hair.

Kate speed dials her dad, pacing the kitchen. He should be up at the cabin for the long weekend doing some handyman work around the place between fishing trips out on the pond. But he should have the cordless phone on his hip like he always does.

"Hey, Katie." She can hear birds chirping, the crunch of leaves underfoot. He's out in the woods, probably on the way to the water. "Ready to take me up on my offer to come up here for a few days?"

"Not quite." A glance toward the study shows that the desk lamp is on and the clicking of keys is audible. Good. Let him write it out for a while. "But to clarify, 'up here' means the cabin, right?"

"Right." He pauses and Kate hears the clatter of his bait box hitting the worn wood of the dock. "Hey, how's Rick taking the college move?"

She sighs, leaning against the counter and playing with the button on the cuff of the shirt. "Not well. Which is kinda why I'm calling. Is SB still out in Connecticut?"

"You gonna take Rick out on the water, Katie? It's been years since you've sailed." God, she can almost hear the teasing spark in her dad's eyes. "You sure you're not gonna crash the boat?"

"Says the man who can't seem to operate the rowboat on the lake," Kate throws back.

"Yes," he says, ignoring her comment. "I think it's in slip nineteen. You have a set of keys?"

Kate grins, pushing off the granite to start toward the bedroom. "Not new at this, Dad."

"Should deny you access with that attitude."

"But we both know you won't," she says. "Love you."

When she walks around the couch into the study, Castle is at the desk, hunched over the laptop with his eyes barely an inch from the screen. "Gonna ruin your eyesight sitting that close," she says, continuing into the bedroom without stopping. "Come on. You gotta pack an overnight bag."

She finds her own weekender, unsnapping the chocolate brown leather, and setting it out on the bed. She has things in Connecticut but not the right things for her first trip there with Castle. So she packs underwear, jeans, a thick sweater, rolling them up and stuffing them into the bag. Kate's in the middle of searching for a pair of flats to wear when she hears him enter the room.

"Where're you taking me?" he asks as Kate hands him a duffel bag.

"Away. Just bring enough for a night. Maybe two." She slips on tan leather flats, hooking a finger against the heel to pull the shoes on. He's just standing there, black bag in his hands, staring at her. "What? Get a move on."

He packs quickly as Kate takes care of the bathroom stuff, putting toothbrushes and hair elastics into a bag, zipping it into her weekender bag. She checks for her keys, still not used to the lighter weight of the metal ring minus the keys for her department car, for the drawers of her desk, for her cuffs. But the keys for the boat in Connecticut are there next to the shiny new one to Castle's loft. Her fingers linger, short nail scraping over the points and valleys of the key.

He has a key to her place.

Trading keys like trading hearts.

She swallows, letting the key clink lightly against the others as she holds onto the ring with her forefinger, looping her arm through the bag. It bumps on her thigh as she waits in the front hallway for him.

Castle is on the phone when he comes out of the bedroom, talking to his mother about 'Kate dragging me off on some spontaneous mystery trip,' sending a wink in her direction as he closes and locks the windows in the living room. "Yes, Mother. I'll talk to you in a few days." He slips his phone into his pocket, leaning over Kate to smudge her lips with his. "Ready to go, my kidnapper."

"Should I blindfold you?" she asks, stepping into the hall and letting him turn his key in the front door, locking the apartment behind them. "Can't chloroform you," Kate muses, heading toward the elevator. "Too heavy for me to carry."

"Such a joker," he says.

They stop at the front desk where Castle tells Eduardo that they're going out of town for a while. The doorman grins as he promises to hold his mail and not let anyone but Martha or Alexis up to the apartment. "Have a good trip, Mr. Castle, Miss Beckett."

Kate hails a cab, sliding across the seat before Castle. "42nd and Park, please," she tells the driver, shifting her bag so it's on her lap, letting Castle's fingers dance over her thigh. Still in the leggings and flannel from the apartment, reminding her that she should probably change once they get to Connecticut.

"Give me a hint?" Castle whispers into her ear in that tone that she knows is designed to weaken her defenses.

Not going to work this time.

Instead, she just smiles, turning her head to brush her lips against the corner of his mouth. Her thumb replaces her lips, rubbing over the stubble from the day. "Just… trust me."

"I trust you but why Grand Central?"

"I don't recall kidnappers telling their victims where and why they were being taken. So shush."

She pays the driver, pushing Castle's shoulder to get him out of the cab. The heels of her flats click on the marble floors of the terminal as she sits Castle on a bench with the order to stay put before going over to buy tickets. She sees him watching her as the attendant swipes her debit card, letting Kate sign the receipt as the young woman behind the counter hands over the tickets and Kate's card.

"Downstairs," Kate says, lacing her fingers with his and tugging him to his feet. "We've got five minutes or so before the train leaves."

Kate gives the conductor their tickets, picking out a seat in the train car for them. Castle takes their bags and stows them on the metal shelf over their heads.

"New Haven, Connecticut?" he asks, moving in front of her, their knees hitting each other as he jostles for the window seat. "What's in Connecticut, Kate?"

"Farms, Mystic aquarium, casinos, a museum about trucking." She tips her head toward him, giving his knee a pat. "Mark Twain's house."

"Don't think you're bringing me to visit cows and a trucking museum. Tell me," he whines into her ear.

She only shakes her head. "Patience."

His head hits her shoulder, turning to press a kiss to the joint through the soft flannel. "Please? With sugar and a cherry on top?"

"God, what are you? Six?" Kate pushes his head off her as the train lurches to a start. "I'm not telling you where we're going."

Her phone vibrates in her purse and she reaches up to take it from the exterior pocket. He's trying to see what she's texting, fingers flying over the touchscreen. But she tilts the phone away from him with a teasing smirk.

Manhattan fades away behind them, turning into the suburbs.

New York disappears. Connecticut replaces the Empire State.

And the entire ride along the coast of the two states, Kate keeps one hand wrapped around her phone with the other clutching his wrist. She doesn't lean against him, snuggling into the back of the seat rather than his side. Even with her eyes closed, she knows he's staring. And rather than being creeped out, it's comforting to know he's watching over her even as she naps on the afternoon train ride to a location he still doesn't know.

Like that time on the airplane back to their city. She reading the letter still tucked into a book somewhere, him dozing in the reclined first-class seat.

Except so much has changed since then. Since 'if only.'

Heart ahead of the job for once.

She sighs, slipping further down in the cushioned chair. It feels good. Unburdened by cases with victims' families looking for answers. Freed from her own case and her mother's case, so tangled together that she could no longer tell one from the other.

His lips caress her temple and she cracks open an eye. "What?"

"You looked sad." His mouth travels down over the curve of her nose, touching the tip before skating across her cheekbone to the point of her jaw just below her ear. "I'm cheering you up."

Kate hums happily, "Mmm, yes, you are." Her fingers move to the inside of his elbow, shifting her head so that he gasps into her mouth as she tickles him. "Only a few more stops."

He snags her phone from her hand, bringing up the map of the railroad. "They just announced Stamford. We can't be going all the way to New Haven. The only other stop I've ever heard of is Fairfield but no idea why we'd be going there."

Castle turns pitiful eyes on her. She doesn't break as she takes her phone back. "Keep going, Castle. I like seeing you work through this little mystery."

"You're so mean," he mutters.

Kate soothes the frown on his face with another quick kiss. "Lying is no way to get me to spill all of my secrets."

When the train stops at a yellow building, Kate gets up, stretching her arms up over her head and leaning from side to side. "Off we get."

He grabs their bags, holding hers away from her hands. "You lead. I'll carry the bags."

The sign along the edge of the platform gives away their location and Kate watches as Castle's brows furrow. "Westport? What's in Westport?" He turns to Kate, horrified. "Do not tell me you really brought me to that trucking museum."

Kate grins, shaking her head. "We need a cab."

They find one and he looks even more confused when Kate tells the driver to head to the Ned Dimes Marina. And then she only gives him that knowing smile when he blinks at her, searching for her keys in the depths of her purse and locating the correct one. The brass has two letters inscribed on the side and she traces the SB with her pinky.

It's been a few months since she was out here. More than a few months. Little over a year.

Still, the sight of the docks, the boats lined up in their slips, afternoon sun shimmering on the water makes her smile. It's comforting.

Kate loops her arm through his, leading him down the length of one of the docks. He stumbles and she catches him, her palm cupping his elbow as he falls against her. "Gonna have to get your sealegs," she jokes, nodding to her left. "Cause we're spending a few days here."

'Here' is a docked boat, bobbing in the gentle waves. The sails aren't up but the ropes along the mast snap in the wind. Three thin, navy stripes ran around the boat, just under the short chrome railing.

She vaults over the rail using one hand, feet landing gently on the deck of the boat. "Hand me the bags," she says, leaning her thighs against the chrome to reach him.

He was staring. At her, at the boat, at the dock.

"Castle," Kate laughs out, wiggling her fingers for their bags. "You okay?"

"Are we commandeering this boat?" he rasps, blinking at her as if she had suddenly gone insane.

Bracing herself on the railing, she takes her weekender from him, dropping it onto the deck next to her before repeating the motion with his duffel. "Totally. Remember that rebellious phase I told you about? Didn't quite outgrow that."

She waits, straight-faced as Castle's mouth falls open, gaping at her. "We're stealing a boat? Kate, I don't think that this is such a good idea." He glances back at the building at the top of the dock then around at the other boats, some with people manning them. Witnesses. "I mean, thank you for trying to distract me but I think we should… not."

"Really? Doesn't the hint of danger give you a little rush? A little fluttering in your chest that makes it all way more exciting?" Her hand touches his, curling around the cuff of his jacket. "A tingling in your fingertips?"

"Is that Katie?"

The stranger's voice interrupts her, making her spin for the source. An elderly woman is sitting on a lounge chair a few boats down and across the water from them, a book upside down on her thigh waves toward them. She has capris on, a loose sweatshirt zipped halfway up, and her hair tied up in a ponytail.

"It's been a while since you've been down here," the woman is saying, ignoring Castle as she talks to Kate.

"Just taking a weekend, Maeve."

"With a gentleman. Where are you manners, Katie?" Maeve gets up, setting the book on the deck of her boat and moving as close to them as possible. "Hello," she says warmly, giving Castle a wave.

Kate is blushing. She can feel the heat on her cheeks and neck when Maeve smiles at her. "Maeve, this is Richard Castle. Castle, Maeve Flannery."

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Castle. I've heard absolutely wonderful things about you from Jim." She points back at her book, dropping her voice to a stage-whisper. "I'm reading one of yours. The ones about you and Katie there."

"Not about Castle and I, Maeve, remember?"

The woman winks. "If you say so, Katie dear. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Castle."

Kate feels the boat under her sway as Castle climbs over the railing. She catches herself on the top of the cabin. "Welcome aboard," she says, scooping up her bag and thumbs her keys until she finds the brass one.

"So," he draws out, taking up his duffel and slinging it over his shoulder, "not stealing the boat."

"Not quite. It's the family boat but I haven't really been out here since…"

His voice is quiet, just at her back as she unlocks the doors down into the cabin. "Your mom?"

Kate shakes her head. "Last summer. Dad drove me down here some weekends to get out of the cabin."

"Ah."

She can hear the melancholy in his tone so she turns around. Feet already a step into the cabin, she takes hold of his ears, and gently pulls his head down to hers. Her tongue touches the corner of his mouth, soothing away the pain, abandonment, guilt of last summer. His hands wrap around her upper arms, trying to tug her against him. Instead, she lets her forehead fall onto his chest.

"It have a cool name like Sea Nile or Reel Time?" he teases, following her down the stairs.

Kate laughs, opening one of the doors next to the stairs and tossing her bag onto the bed. "Surprised you didn't suggest Miss Behavin' or Wet and Wild."

"Ooh. Wet Dream."

She gives him a shove and he bumps against the sink behind him. "Immature. It was Mom and Dad's boat from before me. Clean thoughts."

"Couldn't have been that clean if they had you." He's grinning, eyes taking in the little seating area behind him, two benches set into the wall with a folded table between them, closet for a bathroom on the other side of the stairs. "You gonna tell me?"

Kate gives him the key ring, holding onto the brass key. He takes them and she taps the letters. "Side-Bar." When he raises a brow, she shrugs. "Two lawyers making a joke. They'd come out here during the summer, weekend when they didn't have cases. Off the record, so to speak. Westport's a quiet town and we both know how crazy New York can get."

"An apartment in the city, a cabin upstate, a boat in Connecticut. What aren't you telling me about your past?"

"It's just family money, Castle. Not hiding anything." She shuffles past him to sit on the curved bench, her back into the corner with her feet dangling over the edge. The breeze from the water sweeps into the cabin, bringing in the scent of wildflowers and salt. "There's a pretty good restaurant we can walk to for dinner."

He places one knee between hers, leaning on the table for support as he kisses her. As her head tips back, angling her lips against his, he topples onto her legs. Instead of shifting off her, he only scoots further up, his arms coming up under hers to hold her to him. She cants forward, diving her hands into his hair.

"Or," he says before letting their lips meet again, "we could eat each other."

"For dessert," Kate manages. "Real food for dinner."

"Party pooper."

She sneaks her hand up from between them, turning her wrist enough to check the time on her watch. "We've got about an hour. Wanna do appetizers?"

* * *

She curls onto her side, foot hooked against his ankle, snuggling into the blankets. Kate touches her lips to his shoulder, tasting the salt of drying sweat. Her breathing is still unsteady – three short breaths, two long ones, repeat – as he shifts back over her. "Castle, I really can't –"

Then he's stealing what little air she is able to force into her lungs. When she's gasping for enough oxygen to keep her eyes open, he rests his forehead to hers, smiling against her lips. "Dinner now?"

"Sex and food," she groans, shoving him away and sliding off the bed. "Such a man." Her leggings are halfway in the sink, the flannel shirt in a tangled pile on the ground with his t-shirt. His jeans had made it to the counter, his boxers twisted in the legs of the denim. The only thing missing was her… "Castle," Kate says, turning around to face him, clothing heaped in her arms. "Where are my underwear?"

He smirks, flopping onto the bed. The movement makes the boat shift under her feet and Kate stumbles a little. "Lose track of your under garments? How tragic."

"Richard Castle, give me my clothing," she growls, dropping all of the other clothes on his head. Only the peek of brown hair and his nose are visible.

His body shakes with laughter as he pushes the leg of his jeans from his face, revealing bright blue eyes and a grin. "What're you gonna give me in return?"

Kate turns, giving him a chance to ogle her bare ass before she snatches up her weekender bag and moves down to the bow of the boat. She places the bag on the couch, digging through it for clean clothes. "Get dressed. Joey's should be open."

She shimmies into the clean pair of underwear from the bag before buttoning on jeans. He's still staring, chin propped up on his folded arms as she snaps the hooks on her bra, pushing her arms through the straps. Kate has her head poking out of the neckline of the thick sweater as she points at him. "Seriously. Clothes. Now."

Castle pulls on clean jeans and a t-shirt, unbuttoned dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows over it. As he laces up sneakers, perched on the edge of the counter, Kate wants nothing more than to push the sleeves of that shirt off his arms and get him back into that bed. But she's starving and Joey's has amazing lobster rolls and fries and it's only a two minute walk over to the shore-side restaurant. Kate slips into a worn pair of boat shoes she had left in one of the closets from the summer, wiggling her toes into the leather.

With her keys, phone, and wallet in her back pocket, Kate grabs his hand on the walk up the dock from Side-Bar. Liberated from the city, she doesn't feel strange cuddling into his side as they cross the narrow metal bridge to the dock connected to land. He's warm, shielding her from the ocean breezes as she tugs him toward the grass to cut across to the beach.

"How did your parents do it?" he asks suddenly, squeezing her hand a little tighter.

No context to help her, Kate raises a brow as she glances up at him through the fly-away strands around her ear. "Do what?"

"Let you go to California." He sighs, shaking his head as he looks at the baseball diamond in the field. A group of kids are playing catch, tossing a ball around the field. "Forget it. I'm being stupid."

"You're not stupid," Kate counters, nudging him with her shoulder to get his attention back. "You're being a parent."

The brick building in front of them looks unassuming as she leads him around to the beach side. Their feet sink in the sand, fine dust kicking up behind them. There's a crowd outside on the little porch leading into the restaurant, many holding trays of food.

"It's tough to let people go, Castle," she continues, stepping up onto the wood deck and sneaking into line. "Even harder when that person is your daughter. I think my dad had a breakdown before they drove me out to Stanford. Mom was put together until we were at the airport, saying goodbye. Then all three of us were sort of crying and they had to get on a plane back to Manhattan and we were a mess."

They shift forward with the line. Kate holds the blue door open with her back, tapping her shoe against Castle's. "It's okay to be afraid of change."

"But it's just Columbia," he says, sounding thoroughly frustrated with himself as he studies the menu. "It's not like she's going to Stanford or Oxford. Columbia's still in the city."

"Distance doesn't matter so much. She's not going to be living in the apartment with you. She won't be play laser tag after school or to be completely grossed out at your culinary creations."

He finds her hand, grabbing it for support. She gives it, as much as she can, because he's still floundering. "Hey, you liked the peanut butter and cucumber sandwich."

She smiles, pushing up on her toe tips to kiss him. "So not the point." She turns to the boy behind the counter. "Could I get a lobster roll, a medium Diet Coke, and an order of fries?"

"Cheeseburger with pickles and a medium Sprite, please," Castle says to the kid.

Kate swats at his hand when he reaches for his wallet. "I've got this." When he frowns, she pats his arm. "You can get the next meal."

She lets him hold their receipt number as they wander around the building. There's a wall of candy along with some beach items, uninflated beach balls and towels and visors to keep the sun off beach-goers' faces.

"Anyway," she continues, leaning against the wall and tugging him close. Mostly to get him out of the way but it has the added benefit of pressing him against her. "It's still a change. It may not seem as big as it would if she were going to England or California or even to Yonkers, but things are still going to change. And Castle?" She waits until he looks at her rather than out the door at the ocean. "It's okay to be scared."

He tips his head forward, his nose sliding past hers. "I'm not scar…" He pauses, swallows. "It's just that it's always been the two of us. Mother waltzes in and out but at the core, it's been Alexis and I and now that's going to be different."

"Yeah, it is." She smiles against his mouth before letting her heels hit the ground again. "And it'll take some time to get used to. But it's gonna be okay."

They gather up their food, ditching the tray on the shelf near the trash cans. Cradling wrapped sandwiches and the paper boat of fries, ketchup packets in their pockets, they start back toward the marina. She keeps snagging fries from the container in his hand, sending him little grins as she bites into the fried potato.

"Stop," he warns, shifting the fries away from her. "I want some."

The sun is setting behind the rows of boats, painting the dark water with golds and bronzes. The white hull of Side-Bar is orange now, accented with the navy stripes. It takes some juggling to get onto the boat, handing food and the drinks back and forth until everything was on the small deck.

He sits with his back against the stern wall, keeping the French fries closer to him as he spreads out the food. But Kate has disappeared into the cabin, dropping her things on the counter to find her iPod in the depths of the weekender. Her dad had hooked up some sort of stereo system in the boat a few years back so when Kate plugs the iPod into the jack, a soft piano cover of "Hotel California" starts playing.

Over the course of the meal, the French fries inch closer and closer to Kate. She gives away nothing each time she takes some, pulling the little carton toward her. In retaliation, Castle uses his fork, reaching across the distance to scoop up some of her lobster.

"Hey!" she exclaims, scooting back until she can feel the step down into the cabin at her butt. "Keep your utensils to yourself."

"Stop eating all of the fries," Castle throws back, catching one of the pickles as it threatens to slide off his burger, "and I'll leave your lobster roll alone."

Just to annoy him, Kate leans forward and picks up the rest of the fries and puts them on the step behind her. He's glaring; she can feel the weight of his annoyance on her but she doesn't look at him. She knows if she looks, if she sees the tiny glint of amusement in his eyes even as he glares, she'll break. And she's doing so good. Straight face as she bites into the last of the lobster roll.

And then he does the unexpected. He braces a hand next to her hip and instead of reaching for the French fries, which Kate slaps a hand over protectively, Castle's fingers wrap around her wrist.

"Castle, what're you…" The rest of the protest is stuck in her throat.

Because his lips touch the tip of her thumb, nipping at the bit of lobster and mayonnaise left on her finger. She feels her breath whoosh out and it takes energy to swallow the little moan bubbling in her chest. His mouth moves up to her palm, along her wrist.

When he shifts closer, Kate moves a corresponding inch back.

Her arm hooks around his neck in a futile attempt to catch herself as she falls down a step. "Ouch," she says even as she laughs into the crook of his neck.

"You okay?" he asks, lips pressing to the angle of her jawbone. "Wait! Are the fries okay?"

"So romantic of you," she mutters, trying to get her feet under her so that she can get up.

Castle helps her, tugging her so she's standing on the step. "I thought of you first but…"

The fries are scattered across the stairs down into the cabin. Four managed to stay in the paper boat when it tipped on its side while the rest make a mess in the boat. Before Kate can do anything about it, he picks up the survivors and eats them in one bite.

"Attractive, Castle."

"Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," he mumbles around the fries.

He does clean up the trash from the meal, tossing it into the little trash can under the sink as Kate finds the bottle of wine her dad left here a few visits ago. There are clean tumblers in one of the cabinets into which she pours the pinot noir, swirling the glasses a little as she hands him one of the tumblers. They leave their shoes down in the cabin when they return to the deck.

Her toes curl against the cool fiberglass as she sips at the red wine. The sun is gone and the air is cooling rapidly. She's thankful for the long sleeves of the sweater, pulling them over the heels of her palms as she sits on one of the benches up on the deck. He's across from her, letting her trail her feet over his shins.

The sounds of a guitar drift up from the interior of the cabin, quiet and acoustic in the twilight.

He seems relaxed. Head tipped back to look at the sky where stars are starting to sparkle, shoulders loosened. She's glad she brought him here, to the place where only she and her parents had ever been.

"Kate?" His shoes appear in her view as she studies her toes. "Dance with me?"

Plucking the nearly-empty glass from her hand, Castle sets the two on the top of the cabin. He pulls her up from the seat, one arm settling at the small of her back as his left laces with her fingers. She lets her head settle on his chest as his fingers curl into the knit sweater at her back.

The deck area is small, not large enough for more than shuffling in a circle as if they were at a middle school dance. Kate halfway expected a teacher to come over and tell them to get six inches between their bodies. But there was no one to interrupt. Maeve had withdrawn into her cabin, the lights off. The marina master had locked up hours ago. As if to taunt the universe that has allowed her to spend time so close to this man, she steps further into his embrace.

"When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' th' sea," he whispers, his lips brushing along the shell of her ear as he speaks, "that you might ever do."

She smiles. Because who else would quote Shakespeare to her while dancing on her boat under the night sky? Turning her head up, she touches her mouth to the underside of his jaw. "I would not wish any companion in the world but you."

His hand tightens against her back and he raises their joined hands up to his face. "You're…" he breathes between soft, warm touches of his lips to her knuckles, "You're absolutely astonishing."

"Because I know Shakespeare or…?"

"For everything. For knowing I needed this. For putting up with me with Alexis moving out. For being you."

Kate withdraws from his arms, shaking her head when he frowns. She picks up their wine, handing over his before drinking the rest of hers. "Come on, Castle. Let's go to bed."

She locks the door to the cabin behind them, putting the empty glass in the sink. He's right at her back, hand sneaking around her to put his cup next to hers in the basin. He hitches up her sweater until chilly fingers touch warmed skin. Kate spins around, pushing off his unbuttoned dress shirt until it falls to the ground, already working on getting rid of the t-shirt underneath. Their elbows bump as he tries to pull off her top.

As she walks him back toward the bed, he jerks his head back away from her teasing lips.

"What?"

"Do not tell me you have a mansion in Newport or something crazy like that," he says even as her fingers work at the button of his jeans.

She laughs against his shoulder, giving him a gentle push onto the bed. "The boat isn't enough for you. You need a mansion?"

He tugs her over him, cupping her cheeks with his hands. "You're enough, Kate. You're always going to be enough."

* * *

_and may you in your innocence  
sail through this to that_

_- Lucille Clifton_

* * *

_**A Note from Logan: Happy graduation, Morgan! May happiness (and champagne) be plentiful!**_


End file.
